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Chapter 4
Dropping another dress on her bed, Esther glanced at the mounds of clothes on her bed with despair, “Nothing is right.”
“I would differ, My Lady,” Margaret said while reaching for a dress. “This is wonderful, I think.”
“It’s a strange shade of yellow,” Esther mourned, “And would clash with my hair. I do not have much time. Captain Morgan will be here in half-an-hour, and I am only dressed in my chemise.”
While rummaging for a fitting gown, Margaret unearthed a rich maroon silk dress with the lace trim and seed pearls embroidered on the bodice. “This would be perfect, My Lady, and I think it will match if we thread the strand of seed pearls through your hair.”
With an anxious look to the clock, Esther nodded, “I suppose it will do. Remind me to make an appointment with themodistesoon; I need a new wardrobe. Most of these gowns will be given away as well.”
Shaking out the gown, Margaret said, “Please.”
Esther donned the dress with her maid’s help and stood still while Margaret did up the laces in the back. The bustier was cinched tightly, and Esther grimaced a little, but the reflection in the mirror was delightful. The square neck showed the delicate arch of her collarbones and the graceful curve of her neck.
Seated, Margaret fixed her hair into a lovely chignon with the glittering string of pearls threaded through her hair in the beautiful up-do; Esther began to have some hope that the Captain would find her fetching. She dearly hoped to know more about him and his travels, and fortunately, John was out so he would not interrupt them.
Titling her face for her maid to add some subtle cosmetic to under her eyes and the hollows of her cheeks, Esther wondered how she could tactfully ask him about the war.
Only if he is agreeable to discussing his time there, that is.
“There,” Margaret pulled away. “You are beautiful, My Lady.”
Standing, Esther peered into the mirror and dared to hope that the Captain would see the same image her maid was admiring. While reaching for a thick white shawl, a maid came and announced that Captain Morgan had arrived.
With her heart solidly lodged in her throat, Esther said, “Please show him to the main drawing-room.”
With a courtesy, the maid left, but Esther faltered in her step. Her legs felt weak, and she had to hold onto the wall for a moment. Margaret rested her hand on Esther’s shoulder, “You have nothing to worry about, My Lady.”
Dredging up her courage, Esther nodded, “I won’t worry.”
With Margaret with her, and holding a bated breath, Esther entered the room to see him standing at the tall bow windows. He was staring out into the barren garden beyond, and his rigid, uncomfortable-looking pose twisted a pang of sympathy in her breast. Contrasted against the bright sky, his dark-clad form looked... alone. As if he carried the weight of the world upon his broad shoulders like poor Atlas.
But what trapped her gaze was the nonchalant hand stuck in the pocket of his buff trousers and the other, dangling to the side and holding the stem of another white rose.
Expelling the trapped breath, she walked further into the large, high-ceilinged chamber and padded over the thick Aubusson rug towards him. The room had warm mahogany woodwork; cream, padded chairs and matching couches placed around a coffee table.
“Captain Morgan,” she said breathily, “Wonderful to see you again.”
He turned, and his expression lightened, “You have a lovely home, My Lady.”
“Thank you,” she gestured to the couch, “Please, sit.”
Before he did, he handed her the rose, “It might be the queen of flowers, but it pales in comparison to you.”
A healthy blush heated her face while taking the flower, “That’s very kind of you to say.”
His dark lashes hid his gaze, “It’s not a hardship, nor is it flattery. I told you that I am prone to be very blunt.”
“I know, My Lord,” she replied while fingering the rose on her lap. “And again, I appreciate your honesty.”
“Miss—?” He nodded to Margaret.
“Smith, My Lord,” Margaret said as she went off to take a discreet seat.
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Smith,” Captain Morgan looked around, “Is His Grace home?”
“No,” Esther replied, “He took Mother out to Bond Street for a shopping trip. And she is wont to take a long time doing so,” her eyes dipped to her lap, “…We’ll be alone for a while.”
